Icharus Falling, pt. 3 (poem)
What is it that you need to feel in these lungs of yours,
What is it that beats its wings against those frail ribs—
What song, what scream.
You lost your name and took my memory as recompense.
You were like no one else before you
You were my hope.
You are forgotten like the anonymous falling star,
You are the ancient truths buried under sand.
I wish I could turn you into a kite and put you
Back with the clouds
I think I am beginning to remember your name.